And?
by HP-Forever-XX
Summary: Entry for Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2, Round 4 - Remus Lupin loves Nymphadora Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks loves Remus Lupin. Simple, right? Wrong. One is too noble to fight for their love, whilst the other is too stubborn to sacrifice it.


**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 2 – Round 4**

**Team: **Holyhead Harpies  
**Position: **Captain  
**Task: **Story must start and end with a conjunction (And)

(Imaginative title, I know XD)

* * *

**And?**

"And that's why there can be absolutely no kind of romantic involvement between us whatsoever," Remus Lupin concluded triumphantly. He managed to retain his air of confidence for all of two seconds before dropping his face into his hands and groaning loudly. "What is the point?" he moaned into his hands, all confidence dissipated into thin air like a wizard who'd just apparated.

He moved his hands aside so that he was peering through his splayed fingers. In the mirror he saw a wreck of a man looking back at him, with all the cowardice of a child. "What is the point?" he repeated miserably.

Remus Lupin was renowned for his bravery. He had been a Gryffindor, was a werewolf, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, was an _auror_ for Merlin's sake – and yet he could not even face himself in the mirror whilst he recited perhaps for the millionth time, the oh-so important speech he knew he must deliver before anything got out of hand. But the truth of the situation was that although he had faced many terrifying things in his life – the loss of loved ones, the horrifying transformation into a deadly beast at every full moon, countless duels with dark wizards and near-death escapes – he had never experienced anything so terrifying as the situation he'd suddenly found himself in.

He was in love.

And not just any kind of love – the can't-sleep, can't-eat, can't-think-of-anything-other-than-the-overwhelming-soul-crushing-pain, kind of love. The one that consumes your body day and night, sending your mind into a frenzied storm of desire and confusion to a point where it is physically painful to continue. Yes, it was _that_ kind of love. The very worst kind.

"Talking to yourself?" a voice asked brightly.

He started so violently that he crashed into the table, incidentally sending a shooting pain up through his leg. He felt enough pain as it was when Tonks entered the room, without his now throbbing leg adding to the displeasure.

"No," he gasped, straightening up to his full height and acting as though he wasn't in severe agony. "I was just..."

But she raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that let him know she could see straight through his lies. He was struggling to think of an excuse anyway. She had that effect on him – an effect that clouded his rational thinking, turning him into a panicked idiot. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. This was precisely why he needed to end things before they could properly develop into something.

"Tonks," he said, in his most serious and authoritative voice, "I think we should talk."

She was beautiful today. She was _always_ beautiful, but today – the day he knew he must cut her off from his life – she was more beautiful to him than ever. It had to be some cruel test of his will. He gulped nervously at the very thought.

"Excellent!" she cried in delight, bouncing over to him like an energetic puppy. "Let's talk," she said cheerily, settling herself into one of the chairs that was seated by the table that stretched along the length of the dining room at no. 12 Grimmauld place. Reluctantly he followed and sat down besides her, but his whole body was tense.

Today her hair was relatively ordinary, though in all honesty he knew Tonks could never be remotely ordinary. Oh no, she was simply far too _extraordinary_. But anyhow, her hair was not the bright red curls or the bubblegum pink pixie cut that he often saw her sporting, but was simply (but elegantly) long and wavy and an unadorned brunette colour. It suited her, he thought miserably. The plain colour and style brought out the colour in her cheeks, the soft definition of her button nose, and the endless pools of midnight blue that her eyes happened to be that morning. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Tonks," he said carefully, but the words got caught in his throat and he felt too distracted. Countless times he had practised; _countless times_! And for what? For hours he had looked himself in the eye with as hard and authoritative a look as he could muster, calmly relaying the news that although he was very much fond of her, the relationship they shared could develop no further than the close friendship he felt they had. It was one thing to talk to yourself in the mirror, but a completely different thing to be faced with the very real, very beautiful being that was Nymphadora Tonks.

"Tonks," he tried again, desperately trying to ignore how distracting she was when she batted her eyelashes, and how uncomfortable he was just by being so close to her when he knew he must terminate any romantic connection between them. She cocked her head inquisitively, grinning broadly.

"I – we – I'm very – we've grown very close and I'm very fond of you," he blurted out, only to immediately scowl at his rash confession. That's not what he'd meant to say. Oh Merlin, why was this so difficult?

"I suppose we have," she said coyly. "Grown very close, that is."

"Right," he said uncertainly, positive he'd get it right this time. "Well the thing is..." he trailed off embarrassedly. It had been so easy talking to himself, but now he was seriously worried. He was very aware of the feelings he felt for Tonks, and though he had been in constant denial for a fair few months, he had finally been forced to admit to himself that no matter how much he tried to hide it, even from himself, the honest truth was that he was undeniably and irrevocably in love with her. He had not even considered how she might have felt for him.

Had he deluded himself into thinking they had some kind of silent thing going on? Tonks was teasing and outspoken with everybody. Who was he to assume her boisterous attitude had been nothing but cheerful politeness, and not actually the flirting he thought had been occurring? He was suddenly gripped with fear. He had made a horrible mistake! Just supposing Tonks was not in the slightest bit interested in him in the way he was hopelessly besotted with her, how would she then react when he randomly announced there could be no relationship between them? What if he had misread the signs!? She would look at him in horror, in disgust, in disbelief!

He absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the table in a nervous rhythm. She stared at him pointedly until he realised what he was doing and stopped. After about half a minute of continued staring he realised he had been in the middle of saying something and she was still patiently waiting for the rest of his response. "Oh, right!" he exclaimed, placing his hands in his lap so he couldn't tap the table. Bad mistake, he decided as his leg started shaking uncontrollably. He _needed_ an outlet for his nervous energy.

Wiping his hands hastily down his trousers beneath the table in an attempt to rid them of the sweat that had accumulated, he took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. Those beautiful, enchanting eyes... His heart was tight in his chest. She looked so young.

"I'm very old," he burst without warning. She looked at him with mild alarm. "I'm – I'm a lot old – _older_ –" he corrected, "than you."

She just stared at him blankly. "And?"

He racked his brain. Where exactly was he going with this? All those hours he'd spent practising, gone out the window in a moment's notice! "_And_... that's why there can be absolutely no kind of romantic involvement between us whatsoever," he concluded triumphantly. This time he managed to retain his air of confidence for all of _one_ second before realising exactly what he'd just said. His face drained of all possible colour, leaving him a disturbingly, ghostly white, and with a look of such alarm that had anybody walked in right then they may have assumed he was petrified.

What had he done? What had he done!? He began to panic internally. That was the conclusion to his speech – he hadn't even told her he loved her; hadn't even told her _why_ there could be no romantic involvement! Oh no, he had simply informed her of his age! He had ruined _everything_. And he couldn't go back now. It was said. It was done.

He awaited her reaction in nervous anticipation. He and Tonks had never shared any romance. They had never openly talked about their relationship or their feelings for each other – assuming she actually _did_ have feelings for him and it wasn't just one-sided. They had never kissed or so much as held hands. And there he was, condemning any possible involvement before they'd even _had _any proper involvement.

She began to laugh. It was a laugh he loved – light and warm and uncontrolled. It filled him with happiness when he heard her laugh like that, but now it filled him with dread. He had mentally prepared for any number of reactions. He had expected anger in case romance was the last thing on her mind when it came to him, and she was mortally offended by his refusal of her. He had expected cheerful acceptance in case they were both in the same boat and she too had been worried about things going any further between them due to their different circumstances. He had even expected sorrow in case she was so deeply upset by what he'd said that she was overwhelmed by emotion. He didn't like to flatter himself with thoughts of the last one though. Tonks was a clever girl, and the idea of her being as in love with him as he was with her was ridiculous. He had not, however, expected the very reaction he had received. Laughter? Just the very notion of her being in love with somebody like him sent her into a fit of laughter! He tried not to let it get to him, but it stung like a hex.

"Tonks..." He was humiliated, absolutely humiliated. The colour that had been drained from his face just moments ago, now flushed into his cheeks so that he was as red as the ketchup-coloured curls she favoured for her hair on occasion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Remus," she interrupted. The laughter had disappeared, but the shadow of a smile played on her lips. "I'm not an idiot. I know you're slightly older than me, but that doesn't change anything."

His heart was beating frantically. "You laughed," he accused.

At that she laughed again, just a small snort of amusement. "Yes, because for _months_ I've been trying to let you know how I feel and understand how you feel, and you have been unresponsive and indecisive, and then suddenly out of the blue, you're here randomly telling me that –"

"Please don't repeat it," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands like he'd done earlier. "That isn't what I wanted to say... wasn't how I wanted to say it at all..."

"That's ok," she said brightly. "I was getting bored waiting for you to admit it. And I didn't want to say anything in case it freaked you out too much."

"Admit what?" he asked.

She smiled at him playfully. "That you're in love with me."

"I – wh – what?" he spluttered. "I didn't – I didn't say that!" He hadn't said that, had he? – he began to panic. Had somehow amongst the awkward confession he'd accidently confessed he was hopelessly in love with her? "I'm not!" he lied furiously. No no no, this was not good at all!

She was relishing in his discomfort. "It doesn't matter," she said in a soothing voice. "Because _I'm _in love –"

"_NO_!" he leapt up from the table, backing up against the wall as though she were going to attack him. "No," he said again, more calmly. "Don't say it." He wasn't in love with her. She wasn't in love with him. That was the way it had to be. Confessions of love would only take the situation way out of hand. Confessions of love would mean there was no going back. He _had_ to end it now.

She looked upset by his violent reaction, but he had no choice. "I still mean what I said earlier, Tonks. Nothing can happen between us, nothing at all."

She rose from the table with a face like thunder. "And why not?" she demanded, advancing on him in a threatening manner. Now was his chance. Now was his chance to say all those things he'd rehearsed and missed out previously.

"I'm a werewolf," he said calmly.

"And?"

"And that means I put your life in danger. I'm a monster, Tonks, and you deserve better."

She looked at him sulkily. "That doesn't matter to me!" she insisted. "Werewolf or not, that doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Secondly," he said quickly, "We are on the brink of a war."

"And?"

"_And_," he said irritably, "That means anything could happen to either of us, and I couldn't live with myself if I had to live without you..."

Something flitted into her eyes – a gentle glimmer of affection. He gulped nervously. He did not like having her so close to him. She was just inches away from him, and he felt helpless backed up against the wall like he was. She was intoxicating. She was so close to him he could very easily just bend down and kiss her... But he wouldn't. He had to be strong and resist the most inclining power of temptation. But just suppose she kissed _him_? He knew he'd be powerless to stop it.

"And as I mentioned earlier," he recalled with an embarrassed look, "I am much older than you. Much too old to, err, be involved with you."

"And?"

"Will you stop that?" he snapped. "I'm being deadly serious here, Tonks. Nothing can happen between us, understand?" Why couldn't she treat this more seriously? And why, oh why, would she not stop looking at him with fluttering eyelashes and a flirtatious grin? It was awfully distracting and gave him the impression she wasn't really grasping what he was trying to explain to her.

"No," she said furiously, with a discontented scowl, "I _don't_ understand. You say you love me –"

"I never said that!"

" – and you know I love you " – his heart skipped a beat – "and yet you're trying to tell me that the only thing we can do in this situation is stay apart? I may be younger than you, but I know what I'm doing! I don't care about any of that stuff!"

"Well you should." He felt like he was a teacher again, scolding her for misbehaviour. Why did he feel like he was losing the battle? Why did he feel like Tonks was so stubborn she would refuse to let this go lightly? "I'm not... I'm not good for you. And I think you deserve somebody much better. Somebody your own age, who _doesn't_ have a tendency to transform into a beast every full moon." She didn't even blink. He continued. "There are plenty better men out there who would be suited for you," he said miserably. It would kill him to see her love another, but in the end it would be the best thing for all of them.

"And?" she challenged again.

He let out a cry of frustration. She was infuriating! "Stop that, Tonks! You're acting like a child. A silly, immature child!"

He should have known she'd put up a fight; should have known she'd be too stubborn to take no for an answer! This was going to be a nightmare, he could tell. He looked at her pleadingly, trying to demand with his eyes that she take this seriously.

_Her_ eyes were filled with a delightful mirth. She had him in the palm of her hand and she knew it. Oh, how she knew it... She looked at him triumphantly with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and a devilish grin stretching across her face.

"And?"


End file.
